


chamomile tea

by a_paper_crane



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Logan needs sleep, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Tea, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, listen bro this is just 700 words of them making tea at two in the morning, seriously someone let this man nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_paper_crane/pseuds/a_paper_crane
Summary: “Why’re you up so late?” Logan asks.  He knows the answer, but conversation is keeping him awake — just barely.“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil says with a smile.  “Couldn’t sleep.  I like the night anyway.”or: virgil makes some tea
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	chamomile tea

The kitchen at night is different. It's quieter, for one, and Virgil's footsteps make more noise than any of the little sounds from neighbors or anything around the apartment. Of course it's darker, but Virgil is used to navigating it. He flips on one of the nightlights and gets to work on his tea.

The atmosphere is stranger. His reflection on the window unnerves him slightly, and the floor creaking makes his hair stand on end. It's also calmer, though. It feels separate from looming deadlines and monotonous tasks. There is comfort in the clicking of the old gas stove and the slippery tile floor.

He didn't bother to bring his phone with him, so Virgil watches the water boil. He remembers an old wives' tale his mother used to tell —  _ a watched pot never boils _ — but he pushes the thought aside. He has all the time in the world.

As the water begins to simmer, a noise in the next room makes him jump. It's a dragging sound at first, muffled but still clear, then a yawn followed by a sigh, and then shuffling. Virgil recognizes it as Logan, realizing suddenly that he never came to bed, though he'd said he would be there by midnight. He's surprised when the shuffling passes the bedroom and Logan's frame appears in the doorway, though slumped over and clearly exhausted.

"What time is it?" Logan manages to grumble, barely intelligible.

"Later than either of us should be awake." Virgil checks the clock on the stove. "Almost 2:30."

"What're you making?" He stumbles despite not moving, catching himself on the wall.

"Tea. You can have some if you go change into real pajamas."

Logan looks down, seemingly just noticing that he's still wearing slacks and a tie. The tie is loosened enough to nearly be falling off his shoulder and the knot is crooked. Virgil reaches over and tugs it off for him, watching as a small smile appears on Logan's face.

"M'kay. Be back in a minute." Virgil watches as Logan hauls himself back to their bedroom, not bothering or maybe forgetting to close the door behind him. There's a distinctly unpromising bang, though Virgil can't imagine from what, but Logan is back in the kitchen in a few minutes.

"What was that noise?"

"The drawer. Fell out. 'S fine, I'll get it tomorrow." Logan walks over to stand behind Virgil, smiling softly. He rests his chin on Virgil's head and dangles his arms over his shoulders.

"Watch it, L," Virgil scolds, "You're gonna burn yourself." Logan's hair tickles his nose, and Virgil reminds himself to make an appointment tomorrow. It’s been months since his last haircut, and Virgil knew Logan would never call in. It's a waste of time, he would insist. But Virgil could deal with that in the morning, after some sleep.

Despite Virgil’s warning, Logan doesn’t move, his hands nearly brushing the stovetop. Virgil leans back into him, embracing the heat but being careful not to knock Logan over. Logan’s arms come up to cross over Virgil’s chest, and he hangs on to them loosely.

“Why’re you up so late?” Logan asks. He knows the answer, but conversation is keeping him awake — just barely. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil says with a smile. “Couldn’t sleep. I like the night anyway.”

Logan hums. “I was working on… uh…” He pauses, trying to find his train of thought. “Oh! Writing.  _ Frankenstein _ essay. Fascinating novel, but the prompt ’s terrible. Nobody likes symbolism.”

“Hey, I like symbolism,” Virgil protests quietly. “You just read too literally.”

Logan yawns. “I know. It’s boiling.” He nods at the pot of water.

Virgil slips out from under his arms and moves to the cabinet, where he pulls out a mismatched pair of mugs. “Chamomile?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Logan watches, bleary-eyed, as Virgil slides around the small kitchen, first for teabags, then for honey and sugar, and finally the pot of water on the stove. He hands the larger mug to Logan with a tired grin. “You’re welcome.”

With his tea in one hand and the other around Logan’s waist, Virgil leads him back to the bedroom. They sit, side by side, in the middle of the bed. Virgil’s head falls onto Logan’s shoulder, and he feels Logan lean against him. They drink their tea in silence punctuated by occasional yawns and sighs, ending only when Virgil notices Logan’s mug dangling from his hand and realizes he’s asleep. He takes the mug from him gently and places it on the bedside table.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, “I love you.”

Logan sniffles in his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i have been Struggling with real, organized, correctly formatted writing lately. brain seems to work only in poetry. but here's this i guess!! disgustingly domestic and fluffy like everything else i write.


End file.
